


Effective

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Hank’s satisfied.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 135





	Effective

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

If Hank had the wherewithal, he’d take back every bad thing he ever said about his own personal android partner and he’d absolutely _drench_ Connor in praise, but his brain’s mush, so he says nothing other than broken off syllables. He grits his teeth to keep from making too much noise, because when he does moan too much, Connor smirks around his dick. Smug bastard. There’s a distinctly _human_ glint in Connor’s brown eyes that says he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing. He swallows Hank down to the very root and nuzzles into Hank’s stomach, sucking like Hank’s cock down his throat is all he ever wanted. 

Hank pets one hand back through his hair and fists the other in the couch cushion. The game’s on in the background, but Hank’s completely lost track of the score. He used to love basketball. Maybe he loves Connor more. He crushes that thought down and tells himself he just loves seeing a hot young man kneeling between his legs, eagerly sucking his dick. Connor blows him like it’s the best feeling in the world, even though Connor swears up and down he’s not for _sex_. He’s supposed to be a _detective_. But they’re in between cases. They have down time. Connor says ‘bonding’ with his partner will increase their efficiency, but it sounds like bullshit to Hank. Not that he’s complaining. He’s more than willing to fill up whatever version of a stomach Connor has. He bucks into Connor’s mouth, loving that he doesn’t have to worry about being gentle. 

Connor continues his rhythmic movements regardless of Hank’s staccato thrusts. He pulls back to suckle on the head and then impales himself all over again, sucking hard around the base. Hank tosses his head back and _groans_. His body arches up, toes curling in his socks—he’s getting close. A smudge of brown-black plods into the living room in Hank’s peripherals, but he wouldn’t care if an army of deviants broke in right now—he just wants to _come in Connor’s mouth._

Connor abruptly pulls off of him, leaving his deck with a wet ‘pop’ and a string of synthesized saliva. That wakes Hank up. He stiffens and grunts, “What the hell are you stopping for?”

Connor’s already getting up to his feet. He plods over to Sumo and breathes in a softer, yet fucked-raw tone, “Come here, Sumo.”

Sumo’s tail flicks appreciatively. He pushes up onto all four legs and follows Connor better than he ever follows Hank. Connor guides Hank’s dog out of the room, off to who knows where. Hank’s too busy panting to follow. 

When Connor wanders back into the room, Hank barks, “What—”

“I’ve noticed you’re significantly less likely to finish in a timely manner if Sumo is in the room,” Connor slickly explains.

Hank shifts uncomfortably and justifies, “I don’t like seeing his innocent eyes watching me—but not when I’m about to goddamn—”

He cuts off as Connor kneels down and skillfully envelops him again, right back to business.


End file.
